Vulture Lullabies
by FlorenceSilver
Summary: When a vampire named Regina finds an abused boy hiding in a dog house, she decides to take matters into her own hands. She kills his foster parents and takes the boy as her own. Things aren't easy on the run, though, especially when it turns out that Henry's birth mother is part of a covert government agency that is hunting for them. Cryptid AU. Slow-burn Swan Queen.
1. Angel Down

**A/N: Warning of references to child abuse and some violence.**

* * *

 _You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder._

James 2:19

* * *

Pastor John loved to talk about demons, and the devil, and hellfire. His sermons always threw in a few references to the eternal fires and servants of hell, but on certain days, such as this one, they contained nothing else. He was well into the speech by now, having set aside what he had written and let the spirit take him the rest of the way through the sermon. His hand gestures became more animated and his words more fervent with each sentence as he spoke of the sinners that surrounded his flock, of how they were threatened on all sides. The devil was breathing down their necks and if they didn't fight and spread the good word, he would catch them all.

In the eighth pew of the small church, on the left side, sat a ten year old boy who was neither looking at the pastor, nor listening all that well to him either. His name was Henry and he preferred not to think of demons at all. They frightened him. He'd seen pictures of them with goat legs and horns, terrible fangs, and sharp tails that looked like spears. So he tuned out whatever Pastor John was saying, only catching a stray word here and there, and he thought about angels instead. There was a little painting of an angel on the left side of the church that he liked to watch during the long sermons. His foster parents didn't mind him not paying attention, so long as he was quiet and still. So he spent the hours memorizing every detail of that painting. He knew the angel's pretty face better than his own, he knew how many feathers were on each wing, and he knew the exact pattern of her curly blonde hair. She was tall and strong, but looked very peaceful as she gazed upward. Though he never said it aloud, he often dreamed of her, swooping down on her massive wings, scooping him up, and flying away with him. She hadn't come yet outside of the dream, but he just told himself that she was running late. She would be there soon, to take him away from all of this.

Eventually, the sermon did end, which Henry didn't realize until his foster mother stood and snapped at him that they were leaving. He waved goodbye to the angel on the wall before following her out of the church. Outside, winter was truly setting in around them and a light layer of snow was covering the frozen ground. In the distance, high jagged mountains capped in permanent white snow rose upward, but where they stood was flat farmland.

That night was a bad one for Henry's foster father, Tom Laroy. The bad nights had been rare when the Laroys first took in Henry, but they were growing more frequent. They always started with Tom having a drink and Sharon calling him a useless waste of space and then a whole series of words that Henry had gotten into trouble for repeating at school. Son of a bitch was her favorite. Then the conversation would turn to Henry. Tom would say they should send him back and save themselves the trouble of him, and Sharon would say that they needed the money, especially with Tom not working. And finally Tom would scream for Henry to come to him and Henry would have to wear long sleeves to school the next day to hide the bruises. This night, they were still yelling about Tom's unemployment, not yet on the topic of Henry, so he still had time. He lay in his small bedroom upstairs until he could no longer listen. He got up, crept down the staircase, and out of the back door, avoiding the living room where Tom and Sharon were fighting. He was an expert at being quiet and they were far too involved in their fight to hear him, and so he made it safely outside. Once he stepped out into the yard, however, he realized that in his hurry to leave, he had forgotten his coat. He wore only a thin sweater, an old pair of pants, and tennis shoes. It was cold enough on its own, but with the wind rushing down from the mountains and cutting through him as he wore nothing at all, it was unbearable. Wrapping his arms around himself, he walked carefully through the yard, navigating the trash and scrap metal that were littered through it, around the empty barn, until he reached the small doghouse.

The droopy face of a coonhound peered out of the doghouse and in the shadows Henry could see his tail wagging. Hank was the best, and probably the only good, thing about living with the Laroys. He was a sweet natured dog, despite being chained to a peg in the yard all the time, and he loved Henry more than anyone. Henry got down on all fours and crawled into the doghouse, curling up beside Hank and petting his long soft ears. Hank licked his hands and wagged his tail some more. Even with the dog next to him, it was cold, but sleeping out in the doghouse was far more tolerable than going back now, so Henry shut his eyes. Sharon always made him pray before bed and he usually did so silently, with his hands crossed in front of him. But tonight he said them aloud.

"Dear God. Please send me an angel. The nicest angel you have."

* * *

There are certain songs that are just wildly inappropriate for a situation. Edith Piaf's _La Vie en Rose_ , for example, was a beautiful melody, perfect for drinking coffee in a cafe while it rained outside or having a romantic rooftop date with your fiance. It did not seem a good choice, however, for someone who was licking the blood of the man she had just killed off of her fingertips. If you had to choose an Edith Piaf song for that particular occasion, then _Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien_ might work, but then again who was to say what song was the best to eat someone to.

As it were, the woman with the bloody hands was not particularly inclined to get up to change the music. The iphone, from which it was playing, was over by the dead body and she was not quite ready to face it at the moment. She could at least finish her meal first.

The body had once belonged to a middle aged and nicely dressed man, and now it lay in a horrible state on the tile floor beneath the sink of the motel. He had worn a business suit, which was now bloodstained and torn open in the chest, as was the man himself. There was a messy hole where his heart had once been, now only filled with blood and shards of broken ribs. His wrists were ripped open as well, but they were less of a mess, as most of the blood had been sucked out of them. Less spillage that way.

Still sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, the woman pulled a cigarette out of the carton with fingers that were still stained pink. She placed it in her mouth, lit it, and took a few slow puffs. She hated this part. She muttered a few words under her breath and then flicked the lit cigarette over so that it landed on the chest of the man. It flamed up, quickly setting the whole body on fire. Once fires burned through the skin and reached the fatty tissue inside, humans went up like candles. The smell of burning flesh was horrendous, so the woman grabbed her purse and left the motel, walking away into the night.

* * *

Henry awoke still and cold. His neck hurt from the angle that he had slept in. Nervously, he wiggled all his fingers and toes, and as much as they hurt to move, he figured it was good that at least he could still feel them. It was still dark outside, with the only light coming from the nearly full moon, and Hank was still snoring beside him. Henry stretched as best he could and moved closer to Hank for warmth, when Hank sat upright with a jerk. The dog sniffed the air intently and let out one loud bark. Henry squinted through the gloom to see what coyote or raccoon had caught his attention. With a fluttering sound, a vulture landed on the ground in front of them. It was a large bird with black feathers and a wrinkled black head, and should have been hard to make out in the darkness, but Henry found he could easily see the details of the bird from the sharp, hooked beak and to the dark, shiny eyes. He was also surprised that Hank did not bark more and scare the vulture away. The dog had gone oddly quiet. The vulture walked closer to them and Henry felt his own voice shrink down inside him from the fear. It did nothing however, except raise its large wings and use them to cover the entrance of the dog house, blocking the cold wind from entering. Henry watched it for several minutes, until at last he began to feel warm and could no longer fight off sleep.

The morning sun and a cold blast of air woke Henry. The vulture was gone, but Hank still lay by his side. He gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and crawled out of the doghouse. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew he didn't want to go back home just yet. The school bus came by at 7:00 am, so he decided to walk down the long driveway and wait for it there. He sat down with his back against a tree, still in his Sunday clothes and without his backpack. Across the street, on the branch of a pine tree sat the vulture. At least, Henry thought it was the same vulture. It was hard to tell one from the other. This one had a black head like the one from earlier.

Henry continued to see the vulture throughout the day until he was sure that it had to be the same one. He thought he must be dying, because it followed him around, watching him as if waiting for him to drop dead. It was outside of his classroom all day, on the same pine tree when he got off the bus, and it even sat right outside the window of the house as Tom and Sharon screamed at him for running off. When Tom lost his temper and knocked Henry to the ground, he could see it on the windowsill of the living room, watching them with a strange look in its black eyes. Later, he watched the vulture flying above the house, moving across the sky and then turning to cross its own path in an X shape.

Henry slept in his own bed that night, as Tom had used up all of his rage already and passed out on the couch. There was no need to sleep in the doghouse again, although he did miss the company of Hank. He was just drifting off when a crashing sound from downstairs yanked him out of slumber. It wasn't a particularly unusual sound, as Tom tended to be clumsy when he drank, but the raspy hissing that followed was like nothing Henry had heard before. Curiosity overcame common sense and he went downstairs.

It took him a moment to make sense of the scene in front of him. The lamp had been knocked over, causing the crashing sound, but that was far from the most disturbing thing happening in the living room. Sharon lay on the floor, with her eyes gazing blankly and without blinking up at the ceiling. Her throat was slashed open and there was a bloody hole in her chest. Still on the sofa, Tom had a similar neck wound, but his chest was still intact. He also appeared to still be slightly alive as his finger twitched a little and a faint gurgling sound came from his throat. In the center of the room stood a woman with her back to Henry, the source of the hissing sound. Long black hair hung down her back, but he could see nothing of her face. Her hands were bloody, with one clenched at her side and the other holding something red and dripping. The hissing sound stopped and she slowly turned around to face him. Her skin was light brown, her features sharp and angry-looking, and her teeth bright white when she spoke to him.

"Go wait upstairs," was all she said.

Henry looked once more before he turned and ran back to his bedroom. He sat on top of the quilted bed, not quite sure what to do now.

After a few minutes he heard footsteps, soon followed by the woman entering the bedroom. The blood was gone from her hands and her expression looked softer.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said. She sat next to him on the bed.

"You aren't what I was expecting," said Henry. That seemed to surprise her.

"You were expecting me?" she asked. Her voice was a little raspy, but there was something about it that Henry liked.

"You're my guardian angel," he said. She definitely looked nothing like the big blonde angel in the painting, but he still recognized her right away.

"I'm not an angel," she said. "Maybe the opposite."

Henry shrugged.

"Do you have any other family?" she asked.

Henry shook his head and said, "I'm an orphan. They're my foster parents."

"Well, I suppose you're coming with me then. Pack a bag with anything you want to bring with you and meet me downstairs. And no more of this angel talk, alright?"

"Alright," said Henry.

She reached out and patted him somewhat awkwardly on the knee before leaving the room. Henry grabbed his school backpack and dumped the contents out onto the bed. He grabbed a book of fairy tales that had been a hand me down from one the Laroys' previous foster kids, a stuffed velociraptor toy, a sketchbook and his colored pencils. The Laroys hadn't given him many things to begin with and he had nothing from his birth family, whoever they were, so that was all he wanted to take. He went downstairs to find that Tom and Sharon's bodies had both been covered with sheets, though the blood did soak through them. He looked away from them and instead turned to look at the woman. The room smelled strange though, like a gas station, and that he couldn't turn away from.

"Ready to go?" the woman asked, offering her hand. Henry nodded and slowly took it. She led him outside to Tom's Ford F150 truck, formerly his pride and joy. Hank was stretched across the backseat, panting a little, but he wagged his tail when he saw Henry

"What do you say we burn this whole place down?" the woman asked.

Again Henry nodded. He hadn't quite found his voice with the woman.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a metal lighter, clicking it so that a small flame lit up their faces with a soft orange glow. She said something in a language that Henry didn't understand and threw the lighter at the house. It went up in flames much faster than Henry expected. It seemed like less than a second and the place was an inferno. The warmth felt good rolling off of the flames, though it all smelled terrible. The woman reached down and picked Henry up. He was probably too old for such things, but he didn't mind and she was certainly strong enough to hold him. They watched the fire for a few minutes before getting in the truck and driving away. Henry could hear sirens in the distance, but the woman didn't seem worried at all.

"What's your name?" he finally asked her, once they had gotten onto the dark and empty highway.

"You can call me Regina. And yours?"

"I'm Henry."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Henry."

He watched her for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask her the real question on his mind.

"Are you a fallen angel?" What he really wanted to say was 'What the heck are you?' but that seemed too rude.

"I'm not any sort of angel. Why do you think that?"

"The night you came. I was praying for a guardian angel to fly down and take me away. And then you did."

"Well, whatever god you were praying to must have quite the sense of humor."

They fell into silence again and Henry stared forward at the headlights illuminating the road. He felt warm and safe in the truck, an unusual feeling and made even more so by the fact that he was sitting next to a murderer. The hum of the truck was soothing, as well, and he soon felt his eyelids grow heavy. He let himself slump against the door of the truck and was soon asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: I had to throw in a little Lilo and Stitch reference.**  
 **Also the story of Henry sleeping in the doghouse is based on a true story of Buck Brannaman. He's a famous horse trainer who had a really rough childhood.**


	2. Bad Moon Rising

_When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not know what a wicked animal he was, and was not afraid of him._

-The Brothers Grimm, "Little Red Cap"

* * *

Henry woke briefly in the middle of the night to find the truck had been parked in front of an airport. He saw that Hank was sound asleep in the backseat and he could hear Regina outside doing something. He watched her come around from the back of the truck in the rearview mirror.

"Where are we?" he asked when she had gotten back into the truck.

"We are in the long term parking lot of Cheyenne Regional Airport," she said. "It isn't a good idea to get caught wearing the plates of a stolen truck that belonged to a murder victim. So I switched them out with one of the trucks here. Hopefully they won't even realize when they get back, but just in case, we should probably get a new car in a few days. It's a trick that an old friend of mine once showed me. She knew how to get away with all sorts of things like this."

Whether or not Regina had continued talking about her friend, Henry wasn't sure, as he had drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

The next morning they stopped for breakfast at Granny's Diner, a restaurant located in the middle of nowhere New Mexico. Other than a small gas station, it was the only building on the highway in sight. Around them stretched nothing but sparse shrublands and the occasional cow pasture. It was warmer here, but not by much, and still cold enough to leave Hank in the truck without worrying about him overheating. At least there was no snow on the ground. Inside, the diner was fashioned to mimic the classic fifties look, though it was not so much classic as tacky. The whole place was a display of bright pink and turquoise plastic, Elvis posters, and dingy tile. The food smelled good, though, and Henry could feel his stomach begin to growl. It wasn't what you could call crowded, as there was only one other customer in the place, a middle aged man with his face hidden behind a newspaper. Regina and Henry slid into one of the booths and waited for the waitress to take their order.

"Are you a serial killer, like Hannibal Lecter?" Henry blurted out.

"What, no! And keep your voice down!" She scrunched up her face as if revolted or insulted, but then she sighed and gave a shrug. "Actually that might not be too far off. I'm not a cannibal, though. Not exactly."

Henry didn't know what that meant, so he stayed quiet and hoped that she'd say more.

"I mean a human that eats humans is a cannibal, but I'm not…" she trailed off. "And I only eat the hearts and drink the blood, none of that nasty organ stuff."

"You're a vampire?"

"Sort of. Not like Dracula. A different kind."

"Do you have super powers?"

She looked around the diner, making sure no one was close enough to hear.

"I can turn into a vulture. I'm strong, like really strong. And I can do some magic with fire and reanimating corpses, that sort of thing."

She stopped talking as the waitress came up to take their breakfast orders. Once the woman had left, Henry leaned in and whispered, "So you eat real food, too?"

Regina wasn't sure why this was the question he decided to be the quietest for, but she mimicked him anyway, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Yes, I love a good omelette," she said.

"But you need blood."

"Only like once a month or so."

"So you kill people?" His eyes were so wide as he asked it. It would have been comical if it wasn't a conversation about murder with a ten year old.

"I, um, haven't found any other way to get what I need," she said, looking ashamed. "But I do try to only kill ones like your foster parents, you know. Real pieces of shit...But don't say 'shit,' kid." She quickly corrected herself on the bad language.

They paused the conversation again as the food arrived. It smelled even better when it was sitting right in front of them. Henry dove into his pancakes with a fervor, but Regina took a moment to watch him, fiddling with her fork.

"Jesus, kid, were they even feeding you?" she asked.

Henry looked up for a moment, wondering if he should be embarrassed, and then shrugged. The Laroys had fed him, but sometimes they forgot and sometimes, when they were mad, they sent him to bed without dinner. Besides nothing could taste as good as this. The old lady behind the counter could cook like no other.

"So how'd you end up with them?" Regina asked.

"My birth parents didn't want me, I guess. Or they died. I don't really know. I just know I never knew them. I went to other foster families before the Laroys. Some of them were better, I guess. I liked the Malonsons. They were old, but nice."

"How old were you when the Laroys adopted you?"

"Eight. I was with them for two years."

Henry stared at her for a moment, shifting a little uncomfortably.

"You're not going to take me back, right?" he asked.

"No, I'm not. I'm your guardian vampire, remember?" She smiled at him. Her teeth were still a little unsettling, but it nice nonetheless. "Why don't you go pick a song to play on the jukebox?"

She handed him a handful of quarters and he ran up to the old machine. He took a moment to glance over the names of the available songs, but he didn't recognize any of them. He selected one called "Mack the Knife," because he thought Regina would like something like that.

While he was up, Regina caught a snippet of a conversation that the man with the newspaper was having with the waitress. Something about an attack in town. Her back was to them, but she could hear them well enough.

"That's awful," the waitress said. "What do they think did it? Coyotes?"

"Something bigger than that. Mountain lion or bear is my guess. You know, these tourists come here thinking they can hike the trails with no idea of what they're doing, and then something like this happens. I tell you, I had a cousin who got bit by a bobcat, and even that little sucker got two of his fingers. It'd have to be something big, though, I'll tell you that. I mean, there was nothing left of the guy, except a few parts and a lot of blood," said the man.

Regina looked over at the counter and saw that she was not the only one listening in. The cook, a plump older woman with curly gray hair piled on top of her head, was watching them intently. She was wiping down the countertop, but her attention was obviously on the waitress and the man, and she hadn't looked down at the spot she was washing in over a minute. She noticed that Regina had caught her staring, however, and looked away with a frown on her face.

 _Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear, and it shows them pearly white._

An old jazzy song began to play on the jukebox as Henry returned to the booth.

"Good choice," said Regina, not really listening to the song, but it made Henry smile to hear her say it. Her attention was still on the animal attack, though the man and the waitress had moved on to a different topic of conversation. It could have been a bear or a mountain lion attack, but in her experience, that was rarely the case.

"Let's get out of here. I'll get you a box for the rest of your pancakes," said Regina.

* * *

The fire department had managed to stop the blaze at the Laroy's house sometime during the night, but the fire had been devastating. Now all that remained was a pile of rubble and some lingering smoke. The yard, the barn, even the little doghouse, had remained untouched by the fire, but the house itself had been burned down to ash. A few of the support beams were still somewhat intact, but they were blackened and weak and would fall down soon enough.

"What a goddamn mess," said Emma Swan, looking at the charred bones of the old farmhouse.

"Let's pull the bodies out and see what we can find," said her partner, Graham Humbert.

This was not exactly how Emma had wanted to spend her day off, first investigating an apparent case of spontaneous human combustion and then a house fire about a hundred miles away. Spontaneous human combustions were almost always cryptid related and this case seemed no different. It was cleaner than most, but it still reeked of inhuman involvement, which meant that she and Graham were on the case. They were agents of the Bureau of Cryptid Concealment, more commonly known as the B.C.C., an organization that specialized in keeping the supernatural population hidden from the general public.

They managed to uncover the bodies from the rubble, though there was nothing left except for the bones, which themselves were covered in stress fractures from the heat. Having the second floor of the building collapse and fall upon the bodies did nothing the help their condition. It was going to be difficult to identify them, even trying to use dental records.

"The owners on the deed were Tom, age 41, and Sharon, 38, Laroy. They had a ten year old foster son named Henry. I think we can safely say that these are the bodies of the parents. No child sized skeletons, luckily."

"Ten years old," said Emma, lost in thought. She snapped herself out of it and then added, "No sign of the boy. Do you think we can track him?"

"Maybe. We also need to think about what we're dealing with here. Is this an arsonist that burns for pleasure and accidentally kills along the way? If that's the case, it could be a particularly violent phoenix or an anzu, maybe even a jinn."

"But the hotel burning was only of the body. If they were after a big fire for fun, wouldn't they want to set the whole place alight?"

"Nice work," said Graham. Though he looked about the same age as Emma, he was a good twenty years older and had worked for the B.C.C. for much longer. She was technically no longer a trainee, but she still had a lot to learn about the job.

"So they either used the fire to kill the victims or to cover up the crime," said Emma.

"And my money's on the later. Many cryptids have some pretty distinctive ways of killing or eating people, and fire hides a lot of marks. I'm going to change and sniff around, see if I can pick anything up."

Graham pulled off his shirt and trousers, and handed them to Emma. He then hunched over, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. His muscles began to shift and move around, looking like there were eels writhing beneath his skin. His fingers stretched and the nails lengthened into claws, his teeth got sharper, his eyes turned yellow, and with a sound like a backbone popping, he fell onto all fours in the form of a wolf. Well, close enough to a wolf. He was a little bigger and higher in the shoulder, and his head was a little more square, but from a distance he would look to anyone like a wolf.

He paced around the house and yard, sniffing the wreckage and the items there. He even went around the barn and investigated the empty dog house. After thoroughly getting the scent of the place he shifted back into a man.

"I think I got a clear scent of the boy, in the doghouse of all places. There's something else here, as well. It isn't human, that's for sure, but I don't recognize it at all," he said.

"Do you think it's our guy?" Emma asked.

"I think so. That scent and the little boy's both head in the same direction. The killer must have taken him. You take the car and follow along beside me." With that he was back in the form of the wolf and running down the driveway.

Emma threw his clothes into the backseat of their car and started driving after him. He was quick in his wolf form, but his light gray fur was easy to see. Emma thought about the child, Henry, as she drove. There must be hundreds of thousands of foster kids in the US and thousands of those who were ten year old boys. Still she couldn't help but to think of her own little boy, who would be ten years old now - but no, she shook her head, trying to get such thoughts out of her head. She needed to focus on this case.

* * *

The truck made a screech and then a pitiful sputtering sound and the engine died again. Regina tried for the fifth time to start it, but this time it made no sound at all.

"Damn thing," she muttered. She got out of the truck and opened up the hood to look underneath. There was no smoke at least, and she figured that was a pretty good sign. They were still in the parking lot of Granny's, trying to get the truck to start. So much for leaving town quickly.

"What's wrong with it?" Henry asked.

"I don't know. Do I look like a mechanic?" Regina snapped, more harshly than she had intended. It looked very much like an engine to her, but other than that she couldn't discern much about it. Nothing was obviously broken or missing. She slammed the hood back down.

"Stay here. I'll go call a tow truck inside," she said.

"Back already?" asked the cook, when Regina walked back into the diner.

"I can't get my car to start. Do you have the number for a good tow truck?"

"Sure do. You're definitely not the first person to break down around here." The woman handed her a business card. "Billy'll take care of you."

Regina went outside to use the old pay phone. She didn't trust cell phones enough to carry one of her own, not even a burner. She got a hold of Billy, who said it would take him twenty minutes to get out to them. She then went back into the truck.

"Tow truck will be here soon," she said, rubbing her hands together to warm them. "Hopefully we can get this fixed quickly and be back on the road."

"Where are we going?"

"New Orleans. I've got a friend there that may be able to help us out with some stuff."

"What about the animal attack?"

"You heard them talking about that?" Regina asked.

"Yeah, they weren't quiet about it."

"So, what do you mean 'what about it?'"

"I mean, you're like a superhero. We should probably stop it." He leaned toward her, looking hopeful and eager.

"First of all, there is no we. And second, there is not even a me. We can't spend our time hunting down some rabid cougar."

"They said the body was found on the Red Rock Trail. We could start there," he said.

"Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

"Please."

"No."

* * *

Regina couldn't believe she was doing this. The truck was at the mechanic's until the next morning, and she was following Henry and Hank down the Red Rock Trail. She had to admit it was a gorgeous place, with the trail running along a shallow bluff line of sandstone. Rolling hills of grass and stone rose up around them, but the trail itself was relatively flat. Hank was having a good time, stopping to sniff every few seconds. He was wagging his tail as if he had never been for a walk before, but then again, he probably hadn't. Regina was hoping they would simply have a nice and hopefully brief stroll and be back at their motel before sunset.

It was still early evening, but the sky was starting to turn a pale orange as the sun drooped. The moon was out already. It was always a strange sight to see it while it was still daylight. It looked full, as well, but not as bright as it would be in a few hours.

Henry seemed pretty relaxed, too, given that they were on a stake out for either a rabid animal or a terrifying monster. He was a weird kid, to be honest. And she didn't mean that in any way as an insult. She herself was far too strange to point fingers at anyone else, but she didn't think many ten year olds would be this calm on a murder mission. Or suicide mission. Depending on how things went.

Still, things had been quiet so far. They had seen some pronghorns, a hare, and a jogger or two, but that was it.

"Maybe we need a better view," said Henry, putting his hands on his hips as he observed one of the bluffs.

"That's pretty steep, kid."

"You can fly."

"But you can't. And I'm not leaving you down here alone."

Henry said nothing but opened his eyes a little wider, almost pleading. He could give Hank a run for his money with that puppy dog face.

"Fine," she said. She picked up Hank and placed him over her shoulders like a giant fox fur shawl. He had to be the most passive dog in the world, and simply licked her face before settling down.

"You go first and I'll be behind you to catch you," she said.

It was sloped and rocky enough that they were able to climb and crawl their way up. It certainly wasn't the most intense rock climbing she had ever done, but with a dog to carry and a child to keep an eye on, it also wasn't the easiest. The rocks were made of a grainy sandstone, which wasn't sharp enough to cut, but did leave Henry's palms a little scratched up. He didn't complain, though, and even seemed quite proud of the marks once they had reached the top. They couldn't be more than 20 feet off the ground, but it did give them a better vantage point of the trail and the surrounding area. Regina had to admit that the view was stunning, as well, showing a vast orange sky and dramatic shadows on the rock formations from the setting sun.

"Isn't that the waitress from the diner?" Henry asked, pointing.

It was. Regina hadn't paid her too much attention during breakfast, writing her off as the typical small town girl with big town dreams, dying to get out of small town, New Mexico. She was young and pretty, with red streaks in her hair, a big smile, and big teeth. She had changed out of her waitress uniform and was jogging down the path in tights and a red hoodie. Behind her, a second jogger was catching up to her, this one a man, also wearing a hoodie, but with the hood up so they couldn't see his face. Henry leaned over the edge of the bluff to get a better look at them and Regina had to grab him by his collar and pull him back.

"Hey, hey wait up," the man said. He sounded a little out of breath. The waitress didn't seem to notice him, so he called out to her again. This time she pulled earbuds out of her ears and stopped to hear him.

"Yeah?" she said.

Henry had grabbed Regina's arm so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"You have to help her. I think that's him," he hissed through clenched teeth. The man seemed like just a typical sleeze to Regina, but she had learned the hard way not to underestimate people. You never knew what was lurking beneath the surface.

Regina backed up a little on the rock and then jumped, turning smoothly into a black vulture in the air. She flew in a circle, slowly getting lower and closer to the two.

"I was just thinking you could use some company, you know. It could be dangerous for such a beautiful girl to be out here all alone," the man was saying.

"No, thank you," said the waitress. She put her headphones back in and started to turn away from the man.

"Hey, I wasn't done talking to you!" he snapped, grabbing her elbow and yanking her back to face him. Regina tilted forward to swoop down on the man, but before she could, the waitress had backhanded him and knocked him to the ground. Regina pulled up quickly, and flew back around to see them. The man was still lying on the ground, clutching his face. Regina could see and smell blood leaking from beneath his hands. When he pulled his hands away for a moment, she saw that he had three deep gashes across his cheek and mouth. He began to scream in pain while the waitress stood still and calm over him. Regina landed on one of the low rock outcroppings of the bluff so she could see the scene better.

The waitress was definitely a cryptid. Her eyes were glowing yellow and her fingers had turned into monstrous looking claws. She was completely focused on the man, tensed and waiting like a cat with a baby bird. Then she moved toward him, falling forward onto her front arms, which weren't arms anymore at all, but the front legs of a huge wolf. The man's screams turned from ones of pain to fear when he saw the wolf. Regina could barely hear Henry shouting at her stop the wolf over the sound of the man. She sighed - well, as best as a vulture could sigh - and flew over the wolf. She scratched her talons against the its shoulder, breaking its focus from the man. She turned back into human form and dropped onto the ground. In her vampire form, she could see the intricate pattern of the man's veins and arteries underneath his skin, and the blood dripping out of his wounds seemed to glow with a white hot light. All the other details of the area dulled, as if she were wearing dark sunglasses, but the circulatory system of each living thing showed up in vivid color and light to her. There was a horrible hissing sound in her ears that she knew was coming from herself. She hoped Henry couldn't see her face from where he sat. She knew it was horrible when she got like this. Her teeth grew long and fanged and her features became sunken and gaunt. She wanted to spare him from the sight of her vampire face for now.

The wolf shook itself off and faced Regina, snarling and showing its teeth. It lunged for her, but she managed to jump aside. The wolf was thrown off balance, so Regina took the opportunity and slammed into it, throwing it backward and causing it to land heavily on its side. She ran over and grabbed the still screaming man, pulling him to his feet.

"Get out of here," she hissed, and he took off running in the direction he had come from, as fast as he could.

The wolf stood, holding one of its legs gingerly, as if it was injured. Regina ran forward and knocked it down again, and punched it squarely in the head. She turned back into a vulture and flew up to Henry, who was leaning out over the bluff to get a better view of the fight. Once she was back in human form, she grabbed him around the waist and pulled him away from the edge. He looked at her in amazement and reached up to touch her face, but she gently slapped his hand away. She could still see all his veins and his heart pumping, so she took a few deep breaths until her vision returned to normal. The hissing sound stopped. So much for hiding her face, but he didn't seem too scarred for life.

"I think we'd better go," Regina said. She took his hand and Hank's leash and together they began to run along the top of the bluff line. Below them, the wolf was back on its feet and running on the trail, chasing them from 20 feet below. It seemed to be looking for a place that had a gentle enough slope for it to scale the bluff and reach them. Regina turned away from the edge of the bluff and led them into the pine forest. Behind them, they could hear the wolf howling in anger at their escape.

It took them hours to walk back to the motel, especially given the circular route they took to avoid the wolf. The sun had long since set, leaving only the bright round moon to illuminate the forest and then the empty roads. They arrived with Henry and Hank a little scratched up and Regina pulling pine needles out of her hair. The motel was small, cheap, and dingy, but after their day, it was as good as the Hilton.

"Let's get the hell out of here as soon as we can," Regina said, already starting to drift off. After a moment's pause, she corrected herself and said, "Don't say hell."

The next morning, the truck was mended, with a new break line or carburetor, or some shit - Regina didn't pay that close of attention to what Billy the mechanic had said - and she and Henry were quick to drive out of town. They passed Granny's Diner on the way out, which looked like it was closed and deserted. Regina stepped on the gas pedal, so they zoomed past it and continued on their way south.

* * *

Emma Swan was utterly dreading the endless paperwork that she was going to have to do, trying to explain this clusterfuck. It was a cruel paradox that the most interesting and complicated cases always led to the most boring and time consuming paperwork. She and Graham had followed the missing boy's scent all the way down to New Mexico. Instead of finding him and the creature that had stolen him, however, they found themselves caught up in the case of a feral werewolf. One hiker was dead, ripped to pieces, and another one injured and traumatized.

The werewolf had been easy to find at least. She was reckless, wild, and completely out of control. They cornered her on the edge of a natural park, finding her snarling and angry. She had lunged at Graham, but Emma shot her with a tranquilizer dart before she was within ten feet of him. She growled and staggered for a minute before falling down asleep. The wolf form quickly shifted back into that of a young woman with long brown and red hair. Emma had put silver handcuffs on her and loaded her into the car. But Graham had yet another werewolf to track down.

This one they found in a small white house on the southeastern outskirts of the town.

"Ms. Lucas?" Emma asked when the old woman answered the door. She had gotten the name from the painted mailbox in front of the house.

"Yes?" the woman said, looking suspiciously at Emma. Graham was back in human form, but as soon as Ms. Lucas saw him, her eyes widened in recognition.

"Where is she?" Ms. Lucas said, not needing to specify who she was talking about.

"Who is she to you?" asked Graham.

"My granddaughter. If you hurt her -" she began.

"Your granddaughter is fine. Unharmed, at least. May we come inside?" he asked.

The old woman opened the door a little wider and stood somewhat grudgingly to the side. Graham and Emma went into the living room and sat on a floral patterned sofa. Ms. Lucas took a seat across from them in a little armchair.

"Ma'am, my name is Agent Humbert and this is Agent Swan. We work for the B.C.C."

"And what does the Bureau want with my granddaughter?" Ms. Lucas asked through clenched teeth.

"Do you know where she was two nights ago at 7 pm?" asked Graham.

Ms. Lucas didn't answer, but shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Because we think she was disemboweling a hiker at that time," said Emma. That got a glare from Ms. Lucas, but she still said nothing.

"She has to be what - twenty three, twenty four? And she is acting as careless as if she were just bitten. But she was born a werewolf, wasn't she? So why doesn't she have better control?" Graham asked, his voice raising a little. He didn't like the violent reputation that his species had and he didn't like the werewolves that perpetuated it.

"I-" Ms. Lucas' voice cracked a little and she took a deep breath before trying again, "I just didn't want her to be a part of this life. I thought I could save her from it, so I went to a witch doctor and she gave me some enchanted tea. It kept Ruby from changing, even around the full moon, and dulled her wolf senses, but lately I think the magic has been wearing off."

Graham leaned back in the sofa and rubbed his eyes.

"Did she know that the tea would keep her from changing?" Emma asked.

"No, she didn't even…" Ms. Lucas trailed off.

"She didn't even know she was a werewolf," Graham finished for her.

"I thought I could protect her and everyone else from this curse." As she said it, Ms. Lucas rubbed a spot on her left forearm through her sleeve. "What's going to happen to her?"

"We're going to take her to a rehabilitation facility. If she works hard and gains control of herself, then she will be released back into the public. Now, I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us, as well," said Graham. He stood and pulled out a second pair of silver handcuffs. The old woman nodded, looking resigned, and came with them without a fight. They put her in the backseat with her unconscious granddaughter.

"We'll drop them off in Tombstone and then get back to our murderer kidnapper," Graham said.

Emma didn't like the thought of leaving that little boy with whatever had burned down the house in Wyoming, but she also knew they couldn't pursue them with two werewolves in the back seat. The kid would just have to hang on for a few more days.


	3. Save My Soul

_I wondered why so many gardens around the world focused on the healing power of plants rather than their ability to kill… I felt that most children I knew would be more interested in hearing how a plant killed, how long it would take you to die if you ate it and how gruesome and painful the death might be._

-The Duchess of Northumberland

* * *

Henry had his nose buried in a comic book as Regina drove them ever onward down the highway. Regina said that they were in for a long drive that day. She seemed anxious to get to their destination, or at least to get away from the werewolf town. They had stopped in Texas to pick up some supplies for their trip, and she had bought some books and snacks for Henry and a kong toy for Hank to get them through the trip without having to stop too often. Henry was content with that plan. He was enjoying the comic she had gotten him. It was much more violent than anything he had ever read before. It was all about a war between people with horns and people with wings, but it took place in space and had all kinds of ghosts, aliens, and monsters, too.

Regina was listening to some slow jazz song on the radio about a muddy river. Henry would pause his reading every once in awhile to look over at her.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

"That was nice of you to save the hiker man, even if he was kind of a jerk," Henry said.

"I suppose."

"I think I know why I found you."

"Oh, you found me, did you?" She chuckled a little as she said it.

"Yes. And I think I know why. I can help you help people."

"What? Why?" she asked.

"So you're not an angel. And you kill people. But maybe if I help you help the good people, and you only kill the bad people, it will make up for all the bad stuff you've done."

"I'm not sure what to say to that," she said.

Henry just shrugged and went back to reading. The drove on in silence for awhile, until he broke it again, this time asking, "How much farther?"

"It'll be awhile still."

Around them the landscape began to change. From the dry deserts and shrublands of Texas, the plants began to get greener and more lush. They began to see more lakes and ponds alongside the road, until eventually they were driving through the bayous of Louisiana. The trees were huge and twisted here, and covered in scraggly stuff that Regina called Spanish moss. Even inside the truck, Henry could tell it was warmer here than it had been in New Mexico.

The city itself was sprawling and colorful. Henry set aside his comic book and pressed his face against the window to watch it all pass by. Everything was a mix of old and new. There were cathedrals that had seen centuries nestled right up against gas stations and nail salons. Stone angels with crumbling faces stood on pedestals covered in spray paint graffiti.

"What're those things?" he asked as they drove by a field of small white buildings.

"Graves. The soil is too shallow to put people in the ground, so they just stick them on top here."

They drove into the central city, to a neighborhood with bright buildings and elaborate iron railings on the balconies, and pulled up in front a pink house tucked behind a high metal fence. There was a little courtyard out front with a collection of potted plants and fountain with a statue of raven in the center. Regina was the first out of the truck. She got Hank's leash and let him hop out after her. Henry hesitated, feeling suddenly nervous, though he wasn't sure why. The building looked innocuous enough.

"Coming?" Regina asked. He took a deep breath and got out of the car, following her through the courtyard and up to the front door. A thick black awning gave them some relief from the Louisiana sun at least. The door knocker was styled in the shape of a snarling dragon's head. Regina lifted her hand to use it, but the door opened before she got a chance.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

The woman who answered the door made Henry want to hide behind Regina, but he forced himself to stand still. She was tall and pale, with blonde hair that fell in perfect, neat waves around her face. She wore a black dress and a fancy black choker necklace that reminded Henry of a chandelier. Her southern accent was drawling and slow, but she said her words with precision. She looked from Regina to Henry, and when her eyes were on him, he felt like a rabbit being stared down by a fox.

"Hi, Mal," said Regina.

"Oh, I cannot wait to hear what fucking mess you have gotten yourself into this time," said the woman, Mal. Her arm was propped up against the doorframe.

"Can we come in?" Regina asked.

"Fine. Get in here," she said, lowering her arm to let them pass.

"Thanks," said Regina. She put a hand on Henry's back and gently pushed him through the door, before following after him.

Walking into the house was like stepping into a horror movie taking place in the 1800s. Thick purple curtains covered every window and the only light came from an ornate chandelier hanging over the living room. The furniture was all pink or black and looked so fancy that Henry felt nervous at the thought of even sitting on it. The floor was completely covered in layered rugs, which along with the velvet curtains, muffled all sound within the room. Hank seemed to pick up on Henry's discomfort and leaned against him.

"Want to tell me why you're here?" Mal asked. She moved gracefully, like a video Henry had once seen of a jaguar, and sat down in a winged armchair. Regina fiddled with Hank's lead for a moment.

"I just needed some advice."

"It's been a long time since you came to me for advice. I thought you were doing just fine on your own."

"I'm not exactly on my own at the moment." Regina sat on one the couches.

"Ah yes, the little snack. What's your name?"

"Henry," he said, choosing to look at his feet instead of at Mal.

"My name is Mallory St. Clair. Why don't you give Regina and me a chance to talk in private. You can wait out in the courtyard if you want. And take the dog with you."

Henry nodded, and took Hank back into the little front garden. He sat on the edge of the fountain, wishing he could know what they were talking about, but he was also glad to be out of that place. Mallory may be Regina's friend, but she was creepy. A real crow landed on top of the stone one in the fountain and cawed. It tilted its head a few times back and forth, looking at Henry, and then flew away.

* * *

"A fucking human child, Regina. What the hell were you thinking bringing him here?"

"Did you expect me to leave him in the car? It's like 100 degrees outside."

"It's barely 80. Don't exaggerate," said Mal, crossing her arms. "And just how did you end up in this situation?"

"I killed his foster parents."

"Tell me you at least got rid of the evidence?"

"Yes, just like you taught me."

"Good girl," said Mal.

"And I couldn't just leave him there alone. So I brought him with me. He's a pretty good kid, but strange."

"What do you mean?"

"He seems more aware of things than I would expect a ten year old to be," said Regina.

"Do you think he's a cryptid? He doesn't smell like one." She said it disdainfully, as if it were the worst thing in the world to smell like a human.

"I don't know, but it does make me a little curious about his birth parents."

"So what now? What the hell are you going to do with a child while you tour the country murdering people and fleeing as soon as you're done? Even I know that's a shit life for a child."

"It's better than where he came from."

"Congratulations," said Mal, with absolutely no emotion in her voice. "Well, you came for my advice, so here it is: wipe the kid's memory, dump him at a baby drop, and go on your way."

"I can't do that," said Regina, hissing a little as she said it.

"Then why the fuck did you ask for my advice? You knew what I'd tell you."

"Well, I'm keeping the kid. But I could use your help. I may have gotten a bit sloppy with a kill before I got to the foster parents. I'm worried that-"

Mal stood from her chair, cutting Regina off from what she was saying.

"What the hell did you do, Regina?" She started to pace a little, hands on her hips. Regina watched from the couch, nervously twisting her hands together.

"I was just so hungry. He thought I was a prostitute, and I let him think that. So we went to a motel and I fed on him. But I couldn't burn down the whole place, so I just burned him."

"Jesus, you know there is nothing like an unusual death to get the B.C.C. on your back. Are they after you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," said Regina.

"Well, I'll let you stay here tonight, but you better be gone by morning."

Regina nodded. It was probably the best she could hope for.

* * *

Henry wasn't thrilled about staying the night in Mallory's creepy house, though he had to admit it was an interesting place. Regina was tired from the drive, and was napping in one of the guest rooms. Mal had given Henry one look up and down, told him not to touch anything, and then retreated upstairs. Henry walked around the house, not touching, but taking a good look at all the weird things that Mal had. Beyond the sitting room, he found a room with a harp and a piano, a dining room with a long table, and a several locked doors. There was kitchen with a bunch of old fashioned appliances that looked like they hadn't been used in a decade, if ever. Only the fridge was modern, a big black shiny thing. Henry pulled it open to find stacks and stacks of blood bags, the kind that hospitals used. He shut the fridge quietly and continued his exploration, coming across a door in the back of the house that opened into a bright glass greenhouse. It was hot and humid inside, but he liked it more than the dark and silent rooms of the house.

Henry stopped and sniffed some little white flowers that looked like Queen Anne's lace. There were also some pretty purple flowers, a dark purple tomato-shaped fruit, and green and red plant that looked like a vase with a leaf for a lid. He didn't figure Mallory for much of a gardener, but she must have quite the green thumb to keep this place looking so beautiful. Hank whined a little from the doorway, refusing to step fully into the greenhouse. Henry sighed, but returned to the house. They went back to one of the houses long hallways, where Henry took a tennis ball out of his pocket to throw. Hank bounded down the hallway, his long ears flopping behind him and grabbed the ball. He chewed it a bit, giving the whole thing a nice layer of saliva before bringing it back to Henry.

"Gross." Henry took the dripping ball and threw it, harder this time. It flew down the hallway, bouncing once and then ricocheting off the wall and through an open doorway.

That was strange.

Henry could have sworn that had been one of the locked doors last time he had checked. He walked over to it and looked at a stone staircase leading down into a dimly lit basement. Henry couldn't see the ball from where he stood, so he slowly stepped down onto the first step. Hank whined again from behind him, but Henry continued downward, stepping carefully as if he feared the steps would crumble beneath him. He reached the bottom, finding himself in a hallway lined with shelves of wine and old barrels. There was a heavy wooden door at the end of it and there was some light streaming through the cracks. Henry spotted the green ball where it had rolled under one of the shelves and went to bend down and grab it. As he kneeled down, he heard a noise from behind the door, what sounded like a soft voice.

Henry debated with himself for a moment, but then curiosity won him over and he walked over to the door and pressed his ear against it. He could hear the voice, a little louder than before, but he still couldn't quite make out what it was saying. He turned the knob and pushed it open as quietly as he could.

On the other side of the door was a small room with the same low ceiling as the hallway. The walls were decorated with paintings and old photographs of the same woman. She had reddish brown hair and a pretty heart-shaped face. Her eyes were dark and had a playful look, even in the old black and white photos from the days when no one used to smile. Henry could tell she was kind right away. His attention could not remain on the wall art, however, as there was something far more interesting happening in the center of the room. Mallory was standing with her back to him, leaning down over an open coffin. She was whispering quietly to whatever was inside. Henry moved forward, when she suddenly snapped upright.

"God, I can hear your little heart beating. What the hell are doing down here? I told you not to touch anything," she said. She didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry. I was playing with Hank and our ball rolled down the stairs." Henry, perhaps against his better judgement, walked closer to her, close enough that he could make out what was in the coffin.

He gasped when he saw it. The figure inside was burned so badly that it was barely recognizable. The skin was a charred wreckage, the hair and eyes were gone, and so much of the cheek had burned away that he could see the teeth.

"Would you get out of here?" Mal asked. Her voice sounded strange. Strained, almost.

"Is that the lady in the pictures?" he asked going to stand beside Mal. He looked up at her to see her eyes were a little red and puffy. Mal rubbed at one of them and took a deep breath. She nodded.

"What happened to her?"

Mal's shoulders slumped a little. "We're not like Regina. We can't walk in the sunlight like she can. If we try, it burns us up. But Rose got caught in the sunrise one day and by the time I found her, she was like this. I pulled her inside, but I didn't get to her soon enough. She was moments away from dying, so we froze her, Regina and I. We just froze her in place, unable to die, unable to heal, just asleep. She doesn't feel any pain."

"Will she ever get better?"

"I'm trying, but…" Mal trailed off. Henry stood by her in silence and then reached out and took her hand. She tensed, as if she were going to yank her hand away from him, but she didn't.

"Go on upstairs. I need another minute with her alone," she said.

Henry nodded and left her with the coffin, only stopping a moment to grab Hank's ball before running back up the stairs.

* * *

Mallory didn't come out to say goodbye when they left early the next morning. Regina said that was just her way, that she didn't care much for sentiment. Henry didn't believe that. If keeping your injured girlfriend in a velvet coffin until you could heal her wasn't sentimental, he didn't know what was.

"I wish there was something we could do to help her and the burnt lady," Henry said, once they were back in the truck.

"You met Rose?" Regina sounded truly surprised as she said it.

"Yep."

"We haven't found anything yet. They are incredibly strong vampires, but incredibly fragile. I don't know if she'll ever recover, but Mallory still has hope. You would have liked Rose. Mal was always more mellow and happier when she was around." Regina got a far off sort of look on her face. Henry knew just by looking at the photographs that he would have liked Rose, and he wished there was a way to bring her back. Maybe someday he'd find a magic spell or something.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked.

"We're going to go to a place that Mal told me about, a sort of haven for the strange and mythological beings. It's up North, in Maine. Seems like a good place to lay low for awhile."

"What's it called?"

Regina pulled out a note from her pocket and read off it, "Storybrooke County."

* * *

 **A/N: No Emma this chapter, but she'll be back soon.**

 **Maleficent (with a healthy dose of Pam De Beaufort) gets to make her grand entrance. Slightly different take on the whole sleeping beauty story, but I hope you liked it.**

 **Also, if you were wondering, the comic Henry is reading is Saga and the plants in Mallory's garden were hemlock, deadly nightshade, and a carnivorous pitcher plant.**


	4. I'm Gonna Be

**A/N: A good ole cryptid road trip.**

* * *

 _But the water does not look behind_

 _It flees, runs away further_

 _Where the eyes will not see her,_

 _the water that wanders._

-Papusza, "The Water that Wanders"

* * *

Regina picked up some cds from a grocery store when they stopped to grab breakfast. She popped one into the disk player and a fast guitar song played out of the speakers. Henry thought the voice sounded familiar, but couldn't name the singer. They rolled down the windows in the truck, letting the song flow out into the Louisiana streets.

"Who is this?" Henry asked.

"Johnny Cash," said Regina. She tapped her thumb against the steering wheel in time to the music.

Henry stuck his hand out the window, moving it up and down with the wind. "Is it going to be a long drive?" he asked.

"It will be. Maine's pretty far away."

"Can we stop some places?"

"Yeah, we'll stop for food, and gas, bathroom breaks, maybe overnight. We'll see."

"What about just for fun?" He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. He had been practicing with Hank. She glanced over at him, looking confused.

"For fun?" she asked.

"Like on TV. When people go on roadtrips, they also go see things, like the largest ball of string, or the world's smallest toothbrush."

"You want to go to a bunch of roadside attractions?" Regina's eyebrows raised, but she had a hint of smile.

"Yep."

"Alright, kid, you've won me over. Any in particular you want to see?"

Henry just shrugged. He'd take whatever ones he could get.

"Ok, I've got an idea. Shouldn't take us too far off course."

* * *

"It's a house," said Henry, standing on the red brick walkway. It wasn't a particularly large or impressive house, either. Compared to Mallory's place, it was downright dinky. It was painted white and had green shutters and a little front porch.

"Is it haunted?" he asked.

"No, this is where Johnny Cash was born."

"The guy from the cd?"

"Yes, now go stand in front of it with Hank so I can take a picture," said Regina. She had gotten a disposable camera when they stopped for gas so she could document their road trip properly. Henry went and sat on the porch, scratching Hank behind the ears. It was no giant ball of string, but it was alright.

* * *

"You're lost, aren't you?"

"I am not lost!"

Regina was growing more irritated as they drove down the narrow highway. They had gotten off the interstate miles back, after Regina said she knew a shortcut to take them east to Tennessee. It was dark now, but Henry was pretty sure they were heading north. The road was getting more winding, and the towns seemed to be growing farther apart, replaced by vast expanses of dark forest and moonlit cow fields.

"Where are we then?" he asked.

"We're in Arkansas," she snapped. She paused and then added, "You know, it's harder to navigate from the ground. Usually I just fly around and I can see everything."

Henry nodded, thinking it was better not to keep arguing. He leaned his head against the window and rested his eyes. He must have fallen asleep, because he was awoken with a jolt as the truck lurched to a stop.

"Wha' happen'?" he asked, still sleepy and disoriented.

"We hit a deer," Regina said. She told him to stay in the car and went out to check on it. A blast of cold air hit him when she opened the door and Henry pulled his jacket tighter around him. He could see the deer lying in the road. Its chest was rising and falling and it struggled to stand as Regina approached. Its front legs were still working fine, but it couldn't get the back legs to move right. There was blood all over its hip. Regina took it by the head and snapped its neck. The deer collapsed down on the road, no longer struggling. She lifted it over her shoulder and took it around to the bed of the truck to throw it in.

"Poor young buck," she said, getting back in the truck. Hank woke up and started sniffing at her hands and at the back window, smelling the dead deer.

"I thought bucks had antlers," Henry said. He was still looking at the stain of blood on the pavement.

"Not in the winter. They shed them."

Regina continued down the dark road, but it wasn't long before she slammed on the brakes again. This time, Henry didn't have to ask the reason she had stopped. He pressed himself back into his seat, pushing away from the creature that stood in the beam of the car headlights.

It was huge for one thing, at least as big as a bear, and covered in thick black hair. Its eyes reflected light like a cat's. It had a gaping mouthing full of sharp teeth and two horns that curled over its head. It was panting and, with every breath, it exhaled a puff of steam. It stepped toward them and climbed up onto the hood of the car, causing the front to tip down under the creature's weight.

"Stay still," Regina said. She didn't need to tell Henry. He was absolutely frozen.

The creature continued up onto the roof and then into the bed of the truck. Hank yelped and jumped out of the backseat and into Regina's lap. The creature seemed occupied, though, sniffing at the dead buck. It fastened its jaws around the deer's neck and lifted it as if it weighed nothing. Then, it leapt out of the truck bed and ran into the woods without a look back.

Regina let out a sigh and tried to calm Hank, who was crying and shaking in her lap.

"We may be lost," she said.

* * *

After spending the night in a cheap motel, Regina and Henry managed to locate where they were in the Ozark Mountains of northern Arkansas. They headed east, passing briefly through Missouri and into Kentucky. There, they stopped in a town called Louisville known for its famous trestle bridge. Regina pulled the truck over to the side of the road, right underneath the bridge. She got out and Henry followed her, looking up at the dark and rusty metal. She took his hand in hers.

"What's so famous about it?" Henry asked. It just looked old as far as he could tell.

Regina pointed upward and then he saw it, a creature crawling lizard-like down one of the beams.

"They say there is a dangerous monster that lives on the bridge, a crazed thing that is more beast than human. It wields a bloody ax and murders unsuspecting people who walk under the bridge. Truly a horror," she said, watching as the thing reached the bottom of the beam and stood upright on the ground. It began to walk toward them, with its head looking too big for its body.

"Do you want to know the truth?" Regina asked, grinning down at him with sharp white teeth. He nodded.

"He's nothing but a satyr who scares tourists and steals their wallets," she laughed.

The thing was close enough now that Henry could make out its features. Its head was so large because it was a goat's head, with a furry snout, yellow eyes, and curling horns. It wore trousers, but no shirt, and carried only a black hat, no ax at all.

"How are you, Jefferson?" Regina asked, reaching her free hand out to shake the satyr's.

He bleated and then his face morphed into a human face, that of a young man with curly black hair. He still had horns, though they were much smaller, and he covered them with the hat.

"Haven't seen you in ages, Regina. How's your dad?" Jefferson asked.

Regina's smile fell and she looked at the ground. "He died. Last year."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I liked him. Well, who's this?" He leaned down a bit to look at Henry.

"This is Henry. I picked him up in Wyoming. I'm looking after him now." She pulled Henry a little closer to her.

"Well, nice to meet you, Henry. I have a daughter about your age. Name's Paige. You two want to come 'round for dinner? I won't lie, I'm not the best cook, but you both look like you could use a little more meat on your bones," said Jefferson.

Despite his initial fear, Henry was beginning to like the satyr. He was an odd one, whistling a strange tune the whole way home and stealing a few wallets from people they passed on the street. Still, he seemed good natured enough. His house was small, but clean, and it had a terrific garden, full of gnarled trees, fragrant herbs, and blooming dandelions, even in the middle of winter.

"Paige's mom was a dryad. Paige inherited some of her abilities, and I'm not bad with the whole nature thing myself," Jefferson said, when he noticed Henry admiring the garden.

Paige ran out to greet them, throwing herself at Jefferson in a hug. She was a year older than Henry and nearly a head taller, but he liked her instantly. She had little horns beginning to pop up through her blonde hair, which she was immensely proud of, and a mischievous grin that seemed to stay permanently on her face. Henry hadn't had many friends at any of his schools, and other than foster siblings, he hadn't spent much time with kids his own age. Talking to Paige, though, he wished she would be his friend. It made it all the more hard to leave after dinner. But Louisville was too exposed, too high-profile, Regina said, so they had to move on.

* * *

They were driving through West Virginia on a moonlit night when a bunch of little shadows passed in front of the moon. Regina told Henry that they were bats, high up in the sky and flying like, well, bats out of hell. Then a larger shape followed them. Henry only caught a glimpse of it, backlit for a brief moment by the moon. It had wings, for sure. It was vaguely humanoid in shape but looked like it had something protruding from its head, or possibly two somethings. Even without the moon, he could see its eyes, glowing red and moving through the sky after the bats.

* * *

In New Jersey, they saw a building named Lucy that was shaped like an elephant. Henry liked that one. He had been fond of elephants ever since he saw one at the zoo on a class trip. They got to walk around inside of it and climb to the houdah on the elephant's back to look out on the town.

Unfortunately, when they were going through the Pine Barrens in the southern part of the state, they also saw what Henry could only describe as a horse-dragon. It was a monstrous thing, with cloven hooves, a long and sunken face, and leathery wings. It swooped down at the truck, but didn't pursue them when Regina stepped on the gas and raced down the road.

"I've never seen a real monster before I met you, and now I've seen three on one road trip," he said.

"It's been more than that, hasn't it?" Regina asked, still glancing in the rearview mirror from time to time to make sure the horse-dragon wasn't following them.

"No. Mallory and Jefferson were a bit strange, but they're not monsters."

Regina was quiet for a moment. "Is it too scary? Seeing all these things."

Henry shook his head emphatically. "Nope, I think you're tougher than them."

* * *

Emma and Graham were at least a day behind now. Their stop at the Tombstone branch of the Bureau had taken longer than expected, much longer than a simple drop off. The Tombstone agents were occupied at the time with a case of a rampaging desert sasquatch, which meant that Emma and Graham had had to process and contain the werewolves themselves. And, of course, there was the paperwork.

Emma didn't think there was much hope for the Laroy foster boy. There were some cryptids that were slow eaters and took weeks between their meals, but most were rather voracious, and she could think of no other reason that the murderer would have taken him, other than to eat him. Still, the least they could do was find the killer and bring them to justice. The entire B.C.C. was aware of the missing boy, as were many police stations throughout Wyoming, Montana, and Colorado. There were probably posters and facebook posts about him, but again, Emma wasn't hopeful.

The boy's scent was fainter by the time they got back on the road, but there was enough for Graham to follow. They passed through Texas and down Louisiana, and Emma's stomach sunk lower and lower as they moved out of the remote rural areas and onto more populated highways. Graham changed back into his human form and sat in the passenger seat with the window down, trying to focus on the scent as best he could. Then they arrived at New Orleans, the place they had both been dreading.

Nothing against the city itself, but the whole place was riddled with vampires, witches, bog beasts, and tricksters. There were so many cryptids packed into the place that all other smells were dominated by them. They drove around in circles for over an hour, covering the downtown and uptown neighborhoods, but Graham had lost the trail. They switched tactics, questioning cryptids and local police for any signs of the boy or the killer, but had no luck.

"Damn it," Graham muttered under his breath. Emma had to agree.

They sat in the car a moment, Emma drumming her fingers against the dashboard and Graham frowning intensely out the window.

"We should call the boss," he said.

Emma knew he was right, but she was dreading it nonetheless. She took out her cell phone and dialed the number. Better to just get it over with.

"Director White's office, how can I help you?" said the chipper voice of the secretary.

"Hi, Belle. I need to talk to her."

Isabelle French had been the director's secretary for about as long as Emma could remember. She was clever and so organized that it was intimidating. She always seemed very sweet, but Emma knew she had a bit of a dark side that could flare up.

"I'll transfer you through," said Belle.

Emma waited as the call switched lines and the director answered the phone.

"Hi, Mom," said Emma.

"Emma, what's the update?" said Director White, straight to business. Her mother had been that way even before Emma had joined the Bureau, so she was well used it.

"The werewolves have been processed and incarcerated in Tombstone. Agent Humbert and I were able to follow the scent to New Orleans, but then we lost it."

There was a pause before the director said, "I see. Any witnesses that could have seen them?"

"We asked the usual sources, Johnny the Rat, some of the vampires at Club La Morte, the Weird Sisters, but no one has seen the kid." Emma shuffled her feet a little. She was nearly thirty, but somehow her mother still managed to make her feel like a grounded child.

"Right, better head back to headquarters, then. We'll see if the oracle can tell us anything."

Graham was watching Emma as she hung up the phone. Due to his exceptional hearing, she didn't need to tell him what the director had said. "DC, here we come," he said, sounding far more upbeat than she felt. Emma put the car in drive and they rolled out of the parking lot. Phone calls were one thing, but seeing her mother in person was quite another.


	5. Gods and Monsters

**A/N: We've got quite a few new characters in this one! New to this story, that is, but familiar to the show. The look of the fairies is based on a gorgeous painting called "Fairys and the Peasant Girl" by Yuliya Litvinova.**

* * *

 _The unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable._

-Oscar Wilde

* * *

Killian Jones was drunk. He staggered down the street without a clue where in the city he was exactly, but not too worried about it. He did want to go for a swim in the Charles River Basin, and that meant he should head north. Or maybe south. Was he in Cambridge? He swayed a little and felt his stomach lurch. He stopped and bent over, worried he was going to vomit, but the feeling passed, so he carried on walking and singing down the street.

"Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see. That is but a candle that my mother gave to me, oh something something I've travelled, a hundred miles or moooore. But a candle with hair, I've never seen before." His words came out slurred as he sang loudly and off key. His Irish accent grew even thicker with each line of the song.

"Good lord, you look absolutely wrecked," said a voice from behind him. A prim and proper sort of voice. An English voice, full of condescension and haughtiness.

Killian switched songs and sang out, "Oh, go home British soldiers, go on home. Have you got no fuckin' homes of yer own. For 800 years, we've fought ye without fear, and we'll fight ye for 800 more!"

"Are you just here to be a complete stereotype? You aren't even in Ireland anymore," she said.

Killian turned to face her, both of her. Two images of the woman floated in front of him. He closed one eye, so that there was only one, standing with her hands on her hips. She was pretty, in an angry sort of way, with thick brown hair, blue eyes, and severe cheekbones. If he didn't hate her so much, he might actually like her.

"Did you just come here to yell at me? Because I've had enough of it. What is it that you want, Milah?" he asked her.

"No, I didn't just come here to yell at you, you drunken fool. You still owe me a favor, remember? I'm calling it in." She stepped closer to him and he tried very hard not to fall over.

She was right, though. A few months back he had gotten into a bit of a tight spot with some redcaps who managed to get a bridle on him. He was a kelpie, a water horse who could take the shape of a man when he need to, and kelpie were not fond of bridles, unsurprising given that they had to do the bidding of whoever got the bridle on them. Milah had swooped in, however, and killed all the redcaps, releasing Killian. He was grateful to her for rescuing him, but that didn't mean he was pleased about this owing-her-a-favor business. He was kind of hoping that they could just sleep together and forget the whole thing, but Milah had too good a memory, it seemed.

"What is it, then?" he asked.

"There's going to be a fox hunt. A little fox tried to steal something from the fairy prince, but the guards have caught her. Tomorrow night, they're going to have the hunt in Wompatuck State Park. Winner's prize is worth having: the Ring of Dispel and two thousand pounds. So I need a fast horse." She smiled.

"You'll take the ring, then, and I get the two thousand quid?"

"In your dreams. I'll give you five hundred, but the rest is mine. You owe me one."

Killian sighed, but she wasn't wrong. He didn't like the hunts, but if it would get her off his back, it would be worth it. He chuckled to himself, getting her off his back by getting her onto it.

"Alright, you're on," he said, reaching out his hand to shake her own.

* * *

Regina and Henry stopped in Boston for dinner. Regina had wanted to avoid the big city and its terrible traffic, but Henry was determined to see it. He had also insisted on going through New York City and seeing the Statue of Liberty, which along with their various other detours had turned their quick road trip to Maine into a several day affair. But Henry seemed happy, so she supposed there was no rush. They found a place called Fitzgerald's for dinner, an Irish pub with a little leprechaun on its sign. It wasn't the swankiest place, but it was the only one that would let Hank inside, and they didn't want to leave him in the car. They found a small table toward the back, away from the blasts of cold air from the front door. Regina had to admit, too, that the food smelled incredible. She order a guiness and a shepherd's pie, feeling her stomach grumbling as she handed her menu over to the waiter.

There was a live band playing in one corner, a fast and upbeat tune about a funeral. Henry tapped his foot along with the music, busy drawing in his sketchbook. Regina noticed that he was documenting all the creatures they had seen, the shaggy horned beast in Arkansas, Jefferson in satyr form, and the flying shape in West Virginia. He was currently working on the horse-dragon from New Jersey.

"Did you see the Jersey Devil?" asked the waiter when he brought out their food.

"What?" asked Regina.

He pointed to Henry's drawing. "Looks like him, the Beast of the Pine Barrens."

"Yep," said Henry, still focused on his drawing. The waiter chuckled and told them to enjoy. Henry finished the wing that he was drawing and set his sketchbook aside to dig into his plate of fish n' chips. Hank stood up and sniffed at Henry's plate and Henry snuck him a french fry. Regina took Hank's bowl and a ziplock of kibble from her purse and set up the dog's dinner under the table.

Fitzgerald's was a pretty lively place, with several people getting up to dance in front of the band and others whistling and clapping along from the bar. There was one young woman, though, who didn't seem to be partaking in all the revelry. She was slumped in her barstool, nursing what looked like whiskey. Her pale eyes were red rimmed and puffy as if she had been crying. Henry noticed her a few seconds after Regina and he began to kick Regina lightly under the table.

"What?" she asked.

"This is your chance," he said, looking expectant.

She frowned at him. "My chance?"

"Your chance to do some good. She probably needs some help. So?"

Regina sighed, but after spending days in a car with the kid, she knew he didn't give up easily.

"Alright, fine," she said. She got up and went over to the bar. The woman looked up at her.

"Sorry to bother you. It's just, you look like you're having a rough time. I just wanted to see if you were ok. My, um, kid was worried." Regina nodded back to Henry, who waved at them with a big smile on his face.

"I'm fine. It's nothing you can help with," said the woman. She was Irish, and her voice came out strained and a bit rough.

"You might be surprised," said Regina. She didn't want to pry, but she did feel a strange pull toward the woman. It surprised her. The young woman was cute, but not really Regina's usual type. She tended to go more for tough blondes, often a little on the mean side.

The woman watched Regina's reaction, then leaned in closer and said under her breath, "Are you-? I mean, you're not human?"

That startled Regina.

"How can you tell?" she asked.

"Let's just say that I can have an effect on humans, but most other cryptids are able to resist it somewhat. The fact that you didn't turn into a blushing idiot when you met me is usually a pretty clear indicator."

"Let's sit and talk," said Regina. The woman followed her to the table with Henry and Hank. Henry grabbed an empty chair for her from another table and she sat, still eyeing Regina with curiosity.

"So you know I'm not human, but can you tell what I am?" Regina asked.

"No idea," said the woman.

"She's a vampiric witch," Henry said, a little too loudly. Regina hushed him.

"My name is Regina Mills. This is Henry-"

"Mills. Henry Mills," he said quickly.

Regina raised her eyebrows for a moment, but went along with it.

"And that's Hank," she finished. Hank had already put his head in the woman's lap and was drooling a little on her dress.

"Aurora McNamara." She looked a little nervous then, or at least unsure of what to say next.

"Ok, Aurora, why don't you tell us what happened," said Regina, as gently as she could.

Aurora took a deep breath and then launched into her story. She was a selkie, a seal shifter, born in Ireland, but she had come to Boston after her mom died. There were plenty of harbor seals all over the coastline, so it was an easy place to live as a selkie. To take human form, all she had to do was take off her seal skin and keep it in a safe place until she was ready to return to the sea. At least, that was how it had been until she had gotten into some debt with a fairy prince and he had taken her seal skin as payment.

Henry paused the story, surprised that a fairy had been responsible.

"They aren't like what you see in stories and paintings. They aren't little and cute with pretty butterfly wings. They're tall and pale and powerful. They know all sorts of magic and they hate being robbed. They take what they're owed any way they can," said Aurora. She continued with the tale. Not long after she lost her skin, she met a fox spirit named Hua Mulan. She was an immigrant, too, but from China. They had become fast friends and then girlfriends and Aurora had finally told Mulan about her lost pelt. Fox spirits were clever and good at sneaking into places, so Mulan had tried to steal back the skin from the fairy prince. But fairies were not easy to trick, and they had caught her. Now, the prince had called a hunting party together, open to all the fairies, sluagh, and creatures in Boston. They were going to release Mulan and chase her down, and the one that killed her was going to get the grand prize: a ring that repelled magic and a bag of money.

"When is this supposed to happen?" Regina asked.

"Tomorrow night," said Aurora, burying her face in her hands.

Regina did not want to stay in Boston that long, but the way Henry was looking at her meant that he had made up his mind.

 _Goddamnit_ , she thought.

* * *

Mulan was shaking in her cell, a small stone room with only a cot and a toilet. There was no heating and only the thinnest of blankets on her cot. She had turned into her fox form, which was somewhat warmer, but the Boston winters were brutal. She tucked her fluffy tail around herself, trying to pull as much warmth as she could from it. She was angry at herself. She had never gotten caught before, but then again, she had also never encountered fairies before. Her mother would be so disappointed. Captivity was a horrible place for her kind.

The fairy prince came to look at her from time to time, sometimes alone, sometimes with an entourage of other fairies. He was tall, with long white hair, though he didn't look old. His skin was white, too, as if the sun had never touched it, paler than some of the vampires Mulan had seen. It was his eyes, though, that were the most unsettling. He didn't have irises, only the small black points of his pupils looked out from white eyes. He wore a fine suit and a dark metal crown and grinned like a snake at her. She growled at him and he always laughed. The other fairies with him were just as pale and sinister looking. The one that was most frequently at his side had blue-tinted hair and a larger crown than his own. Mulan thought she must be the fairy queen. Not the real fairy queen, of course. Aurora had told her that the real fairy queen was still in Ireland, presiding over a huge court of fairies, kelpies, selkies, leprechauns, and hosts of other strange and wonderful beings. This Bostonian royal family was nothing but a group of posers, throwing their power around.

Mulan stopped growling and turned her back to the fairies who watched her. She closed her eyes, not knowing how she was going to get out of this one.

* * *

"Jesus, fuck," said Regina when they arrived at Wompatuck State Park, the site of the wild hunt. She was expecting maybe a dozen hunters to compete, but apparently there were more cryptids in Boston than she had thought. The starting field was absolutely full of all sorts of creatures. There were several graceful, pale beings on beautiful white horses, whom Regina thought must be the fairies. Behind them, on massive black steeds, were several headless riders, brandishing metal whips and axes, the dullahan. Many cloaked members of the sluagh, the restless dead, were riding a myriad of ghostly horses and other strange animals. Running around under the horses' feet were shaggy black dogs and slim white hounds with red ears. One of the fairies had a cockatrice on her arm. It was strange thing, like chicken that had remembered it had once been a dinosaur. It flicked its scaly tail and shrieked, revealing a row of sharp teeth. Regina could sense a spell blanketing the entire park, hiding them all from any human eyes.

There also seemed to be a crowd of people gathered on the edge of the lawn to watch and cheer on the contestants. Aurora took Henry and Hank over to stand with them, leaving Regina to walk over to the crowd of hunters. Regina was one of the only ones that did not have a horse, which gave her some strange looks from the rest of the hunters. She did see two others, though, who were unmounted, an Irish man and an English woman who were arguing over a bridle.

"Just accept it!" the English woman barked out.

The man sighed but he bent over and shifted into a horse, a gray one with a black mane and tail, shinier than a horse should be and with a bigger mouth. A kelpie. Aurora had told her about what sort of creatures to expect on the hunt. Regina just wished Aurora had known how fucking many of them were going to show up.

There was trumpeting sound and a cheer rose up from the crowd. Four dullahan walked through the hunters, carrying a palanquin with two fairies inside. They walked to the front of the crowd and set down the palanquin. The fairies climbed out, a young man with white hair and a slightly older woman with blue hair. The man held up a cage holding a little red fox and the hunters began to cheer even louder. The blue haired woman raised her hands and the crowd went silent.

"This demon tried to steal the property of my dearest son. For that, she must be punished. But, we are not unreasonable. She will be given a chance. If the demon reaches the oldest oak tree on the far side of the park, then she is free. But if one of you should kill her, then you will win the great prize, Lancelot's Ring of Dispel!" She held up a silver ring in a gloved hand and the crowd burst into applause.

"The demon will have one minute head start," called the prince. He unlatched the cage and the fox burst through the open door, leaping onto the ground and sprinting away toward the forest. The dogs began barking, but their owners held them back. Some of the horses reared up in excitement. As the minute came to an end, the prince raised his arms up in the air. The crowd stilled for a moment, and then he brought his arms down and they surged forward, a crazed mass of bloodthirsty hunters.

Regina leapt into the air and turned into a vulture, soaring up above the crowd. She was glad not to be in the middle of it all. Mulan may be the main target, but the hunters had no problem taking out their competition if needed. She watched one of the dullahan throw his whip around a cloaked member of the sluagh and yank him off his mount. A black dog, at its fairy owner's command, leapt up and tore into the throat of another hunter's horse. It was turning into a bit of a bloodbath, but Regina supposed that would work in Mulan's favor. The hunters plunged into the forest and started to break apart to search for Mulan. Regina dipped down lower as she flew over the woods, not quite sure how she was going to find Mulan in the thick trees. She swooped and landed on a tree branch and scanned the forest, switching on her vampire vision. She could see the circulatory systems of the deer and squirrels that ran through the trees, frantic to get away from the crazed hunters. Nothing that looked like a fox, though.

She flew up again and went to check another part of the forest. No luck. She went west, and this time she saw something. It was human shaped, but it was crouched in a tree, as if waiting for something. Regina blinked, letting her vision return to normal. She could see a black haired woman holding tight to a branch and watching the ground. Regina recognized her as Mulan from a picture that Aurora had showed her.

A rider began to approach below them, a dullahan. Mulan seemed completely focused on him and hadn't noticed Regina yet. Mulan waited for the dullahan to pass under the tree and then she leapt forward. She grabbed a lower tree branch, swinging her legs to kick the dullahan solidly in the chest, knocking him off of the horse. Mulan then landed on the horse's back and dropped down into the saddle. The horse reared, kicking out its huge feet, but she managed to urge it forward into a gallop. The dullahan got up and threw his ax at her, but it missed and landed deep in a tree trunk. Regina laughed and flew down as a vulture, raking her talons across the dullahan's shoulder before following after the horse.

Regina wasn't fast enough flying in the thick of the forest, so she had to fly up above the trees and catch up to Mulan from above. She dove down and landed behind Mulan on the horse, turning back into human form as she did so. Mulan, without any hesitation, drove her elbow into Regina's nose, almost knocking her off the horse.

"Wait, wait, I'm, um, here to rescue you. I'm friends with Aurora," Regina said, holding her face. Fox spirits could really pack a punch.

"Oh...thanks," said Mulan, glancing behind her.

"Doesn't seem like you need much help, though."

Mulan just shrugged and urged the horse to go faster.

"Do you know where this oak tree is?" she asked.

"No, but Aurora said not to trust the fairies, that they have no intention of letting you go," Regina said. She had to duck under a low branch as she spoke.

"Fairies can't lie," said Mulan.

"But they can deceive. Letting you 'go free' might not mean what you think. Let's just make a run for it."

Mulan thought about for a second, and seemed about ready to agree, when a lightning bolt went flying past them and caused a tree to explode. The dullahan's horse screamed, but kept running. Regina looked behind them, seeing the kelpie and the English woman hot on their heels. The dullahan's horse was big and strong, but the kelpie was definitely faster.

"Keep going," said Regina, before leaping off the horse. She glided back as a vulture and crashed straight into the kelpie, latching onto his shoulder. He twisted and bucked, throwing the English woman from his back. Regina turned humanoid, hissing loudly, and bit into the neck of the kelpie. He fell to the ground, turned back into his human form, and managed to get free of Regina's grasp. He held his hands up surrendering.

"Get up and fight, you coward!" the English woman screamed at him.

"I'm not dying for this," he said. Then he caught sight of Regina and said, "God, her face," with a look of horror on his own. His neck was bleeding and a part of Regina wanted to finished him off, but the woman was of more concern.

Regina advanced on the woman, who shot another bolt of lightning from her fingertips. Lightning was close enough to fire, though, and Regina was good with fire, so she just knocked it to the side. She grabbed the woman by the collar, watching her heart beating faster and faster and her blood rushing through her jugular vein. Regina sunk her teeth into the woman. She could hear hoofbeats as the kelpie ran away from them. Regina didn't care, though, as she had lost all interest in him. She drank and drank, then ripped into the woman's chest and ate her heart. She cleaned up her fingers and face and flew up to find Mulan again. She spotted her about a mile outside the park, still riding the horse at a dead run down the street.

"You're covered in blood, you know," Mulan said, when Regina landed behind her.

"Damn, I thought I got it all," Regina said, rubbing furiously at her mouth.

They circled around in a wide arc, back toward Boston to meet up with Henry and Aurora at Fitzgerald's.

* * *

Once the wild hunt entered the forest, none of the crowd could see what was happening, though they could still hear some of the yells and cries rising out of the trees.

"Do you think they made it out?" Aurora asked.

"Yep, I know they did," said Henry. Aurora didn't seem convinced, but she forced a small smile anyway.

"Let's go wait for them. I don't like the way the prince is watching us," she said. The fairy prince and the queen had stayed behind with their dullahan guards and a retinue of servants. The prince was staring at Aurora with a small smile playing on his colorless lips. Henry shuttered a little and followed Aurora back to her car.

They drove back to Boston without a word. Aurora seemed too nervous to talk, so Henry turned the radio on to fill the silence.

Fitzgerald's looked pretty much the same as it had the night before, except for the massive black horse tied up outside the building. Henry went over to pet it, only able to reach about halfway up the horse's shoulder. Hank was a little hesitant, but he sniffed the horse and began wagging his tail when it sniffed him back. Aurora stared at it, twisting her hands together and then ran into the pub.

Henry followed just in time to see Aurora throwing her arms around Mulan. He grinned and went over to where Regina was sitting and drinking a beer. Her clothes looked a little torn and dirty and there was a leaf in her hair, but she smiled back at him.

"You did it," he said.

"Yep, piece of cake." She patted the barstool next to her for him to sit. They could hear Mulan and Aurora talking softly to each other. Mulan was apologizing for failing to steal back the seal skin.

"Shh, it doesn't matter," said Aurora. There were tears falling down her face.

Regina let them have a moment together and then went over to them, with Henry following, of course.

"Listen, I don't know what your plans are, but those fairies seem to be pretty powerful around these parts. You might want to think about getting out of town," she said.

"You could come with us. We're going to Storybrooke County, Maine," said Henry. Regina gave him a look and he smiled sheepishly up at her. He knew she didn't like him telling people their plans. Still, Mulan and Aurora were nice. He nudged her a little.

"Really?" asked Aurora.

"Apparently," said Regina.

* * *

Regina had declared no more tourist stops on the trip, ready to get to Maine as soon as possible, so they had stocked the F150 full of food and they were powering through the night. Mulan and Aurora were sharing the passenger seat, while Henry slept in the back with Duke. The dullahan's horse was eating hay in the horse trailer they had "borrowed" on their way out of Boston.

"Are you two running from something?" asked Aurora, breaking the silence in the truck.

Regina frowned. Mulan and Aurora seemed trustworthy enough, and she had helped Mulan escape capture from the wild hunt, but she wasn't positive just how much she wanted them to know about her and Henry.

"Why do you ask?"

Aurora shrugged and said, "Most people racing up the interstate to Storybrooke County are running from something."

Regina tapped the steering wheel, wishing she had come up with a backstory before hand. Henry sat up in the backseat and stretched.

"We're just looking for a fresh start," she said.

"What about you, Henry? Are you a vampire like your mom?" Aurora asked. She asked a lot of questions. She was probably just being polite, making small talk, but it still made Regina nervous. Then again, most things surrounding Henry made her nervous. Mulan was more stoic, and hadn't said much throughout the drive.

"Nope, I'm just a kid," he said, perhaps sounding a little disappointed.

"Was your father human?"

"Oh, um, I don't know. I'm...adopted," said Henry. Saying Regina had adopted him was a nicer way to put it than she had murdered his legal guardians and then technically but consensually kidnapped him.

"We've talked about adopting some day. You're lucky to have each other," said Mulan.

Behind them all the horse whinnied loudly.

"We should give her a name, can't keep just calling her the dullahan's horse," said Aurora, and Regina was relieved for the change of subject.

"Midnight?" said Mulan.

"No, too obvious."

"Snowball?" suggested Regina.

Aurora laughed, but rejected that one, too.

They went through several suggestions, with Henry throwing in his vote for "Daisy." In the end, they settled on "Connie." Regina wasn't crazy about it, but the others seemed to like it, and she was outvoted. Connie, the terrifying dullahan's horse. It didn't quite strike fear into the heart.

Regina got distracted from her thoughts about horse-naming, however, as they passed a "Welcome to Maine" sign. They were almost there.


End file.
